Page 11 of Becoming His Pet

Chapter Four

She’d been snatchedby a psychopath.

Nora heard the front door open, heard his booted steps cross the living room and get closer to her, but she remained where she stood. In the doorway to his kill room.

That was the correct term, right? The room used to torture and kill victims of serial killers. Yes, that’s what she was staring at.

“Shit. Nora.” His hand clamped down hard on her shoulder and yanked her out of the way, so he could pull the door shut. “You shouldn’t have gone in there.”

But she did. And now he’d kill her.

“I’m sorry for bothering you at all.” She backed away from him, but that meant heading deeper into the apartment and farther away from the only exit she knew.

“Nora. Calm down.” He crept closer to her, his hands displayed in front of him like he was trying to tame a wild animal.

“I want to leave.” Her back bumped into a closed door, or was it a wall; she had no bearings on where she was anymore.

“Where will you go?” he asked, dropping his hands to his sides.

She glanced over his shoulder to the opening leading to the living room.

“Home. I’ll go home.”

“And what about Antonio? The Santinelli brothers? You think that’s all over with?” His calm voice should have soothed her, but it only underlined the trouble she was in. Going home wasn’t an option, staying with him wasn’t a good idea either.

“I didn’t see anything. I mean nothing I’ll talk about. The brothers won’t hurt me. They don’t hurt civilians,” she said, fumbling for a door knob behind her.

“You witnessed them killing someone, Nora. They don’t let you just walk to the police station after that.” His eyes were focused on her. Steady and resolved.

“Then I won’t go to the police. I already told you I don’t want that. I’ll just pack a few things and head out of the city for a few days. It will be fine.” Fuck. Even as she said the words she knew it wouldn’t work. She knew how the brothers and the family handled shit like this. It’s why she was working at that the damn flower shop in the first place.

“Nora.” He straightened his back, rolled his shoulders, and set a stern expression on her. “I’m not going to hurt you. That room you were looking at isn’t meant for torture. It’s my playroom. And I get that means nothing to you, and I’m asking for a lot of trust when you don’t know me, but I need you to try.”

Playroom?

“You had a cage in there. Chains, and I saw a whip.” She knew she was sputtering, but given the events of the day, she thought she was taking things in great stride.

The corners of his lips twitched upward, like he was going to smile. Of course, a madman would be pleased with his playground toys.

“It’s not what you think, Nora. It’s a playroom. Only women who agree to go in and play do. You don’t have to go in there.” He sounded sincere; his eyes had an honest twinkle to them.

“Just let me go. Thank you for getting me away from the flower shop, but I can take it from here.” She straightened herself up and thrust out her chin; if she could only get her eyes to meet his she might be able to pull off the confident look she was going for.

He let out a long sigh. “I know you think you’ll be safe, but I know guys like the Santinelli brothers. You’re a loose end, and they don’t like those.”

She licked her lips and forced a smile. “You know the way those families work? You’re in one maybe?”

“I’ve been around enough shit to know guys like them don’t just walk away if they feel threatened.”

“You a cop?” she asked, sudden panic building in her chest.

“No. Nothing like that. I was military. Just got home a few months ago. But I’ve seen bad guys, Nora. These are bad guys, and until I can get someone over here to take you somewhere safe, I’d rather you stuck with me.”

Someone else? He was going to just hand her over to someone else? This entire situation escalated beyond reasonable. He was a fucking customer at the flower shop. Antonio was dead—killed right in front of her—and the Santinelli brothers wanted her head.

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